


He drank

by destinysbastard



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Alcoholism, Drinking, Finally, Fluff, Gay Sex, Good night, Home, Hurt Dean, Incest, Insecure Dean, M/M, Protective Sam, Sex, Smut, additional tags might follow, handjobs, hmmm, idk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 11:04:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7974508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destinysbastard/pseuds/destinysbastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean drinks. Sometimes a bit too much. Sam worries. Sometimes a bit too much. Though it is understandable. </p>
<p>NOT FOR LONG THOUUUUGH (Sorry I'm tired and idk about summaries)</p>
            </blockquote>





	He drank

**Author's Note:**

> Uh yes. I started this about 3 weeks ago and then school started again and messed me up.  
> I decided I wanted/needed to find an end to this and I did. Hopefully it's alright. Also I have many other lovely fics to get to now... ;)  
> Neeeeed sleep now. But glad I am posting something again. :D  
> Have some Wincest Fluff. (Soon more following.)  
> And a nice day!

Most teenagers drink to fit in, and that's probably how it had started out for Dean, but it soon turned into something more: a way to forget, to numb the pain he was feeling.

There was plenty of pain locked up in his chest already at that young age. The struggle of growing up that way, moving around, learning to hunt when he was still a kid, losing his mother that early... Of course Sam had grown up that way too, with the same father, the same home, no mother.

But for one he had never really known his mother, he barely had any memories of her. He sometimes wondered what she'd been like but for Dean it was something else. He had loved her, he had  _had_ her and then he had not only lost her, but seen her burn. Literally. 

And secondly, Sam had Dean. He had someone watching out for him and he'd never had to take on that kind of responsibility, like Dean had.

So of course Sam understood why he drank. He was looking for a way to drown out the demons. Starting at a young age, he didn't know any better (not that he was smarter at coping with shit these days either), and it became a habit; the only way he knew how to empty his mind.

He understood, but it hurt Sam to see his brother likes this nevertheless.

Those were the thoughts going through his mind as he sat there, on the edge of the bed, next to Dean.

He had gotten a call from Charlie, because she hadn't seen Dean in almost three days and was worrying. Sam didn't know whether he should worry, or if Dean had simply had enough of people and needed to get away for a bit, like he sometimes did, taking his baby for a spin.

Either way, he needed to make sure. So he took his car and drove the three-hour ride from where he was staying at the moment, all the way to dean's apartment. He knocked, and when he got no answer he shouted his brother's name.

When there was still only silence on the other end, he got out his key (he had made Dean give him a backup key a long time ago, when Dean was doing really bad) and opened up.

Stepping inside, he only saw darkness. He closed the door behind him and after getting used to the darkness, he walked through the living room. No sign of anyone. Then he went to the bedroom, where the door was ajar. He opened it slowly, and then turned on the light, resulting in a groan from Dean, who Sam now saw lying on his bed.

"Sorry," he said, about the light thing. He looked around and besides the passed out Dean on the bed, it became obvious he had been drinking: there were tons of empty or half-empty bottles standing around, beer, whiskey and what-not.

From the sound Dean had made Sam at least knew his brother was alive, but his heart had jumped at the sight nevertheless (as it always did when Sam thought of the possibility of Dean drinking just a little too much).

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair, then sat down on the bed next to Dean. His brother did not react, and Sam wasn't sure if he should just leave him like that or wake him up.

He decided to do the latter, because as far as he knew Dean, he had probably not eaten anything in hours (if not in days). He shook him lighty and said his name a few times and again Dean just groaned. Then he slurred, "Hi, Sammy." and tried to move, but wasn't very successful at that.

Sam got him some water and helped him sit up and hold the glass. It woke him up a bit. "Have you eaten?" he asked, knowing that at the moment he couldn't reason with his brother or really talk about the incident, not before he had eaten something or slept.

Dean shook his head no, and then looked at Sam with an expression on his face that looked like a mixture of boredom, fatigue and puppy eyes. "I'll get you something to eat," Sam sighed and then went to the kitchen. He found a package of noodle soup that he only had to put into the microwave. Then he brought it to Dean who seemed to be asleep again. He wasn't though.

He laughed a bit as Sam walked in and started blabbering while Sam got him to sit up and take the soup. "How're you here though, baby brother?" He slurred. "Do you like feel it when I go bad or somethin'?" Sam had a hard time getting Dean to eat the soup, but eventually it worked and he replied, "Charlie called."

After eating the soup, Dean was a bit more talkative - though also very tired; he was leaning against the wall, barely holding himself up (yet he refused to sleep).

"You didn't hafta come," Dean said, his eyes closed. "Yeah, I did," Sam replied. "But whyyy do you care so much?" Dean asked and Sam wasn't sure if Dean was seriously asking him that. "You're my brother, of course I care." Dean opened his eyes, but didn't look at Sam. "But dad drank too and we didn't do anything."

"That was different. We were kids. And besides I don't think we could have saved him." Dean looked up at him. "You think you can save me?" he asked.

Sam furrowed his brows, and thought about what saving even meant. Could anyone ever be saved? "I don't know about saving, I just wanted to make sure you're not  _dead_ ," he replied. Dean was quiet after that for a bit and Sam wasn't sure if he had fallen asleep. 

But then he said, "Maybe that'd be better. Dead I mean." Sam looked at him and felt almost a bit angry. "What the hell, Dean, why would you say that?" Dean shrugged. "Dunno... I just hurt everyone. I only ever hurt you." Sam's heart sank, like a stone in water, heavy and nearly unstoppable.

"That's not true, Dean," he said. "Yeah it is. I bet you were havin' a great time with your girlfriend and then you had to come and save me." Sam had to chuckle at that - was that his definition of hurting someone? But he didn't know what was going on in Dean's mind; there was a reason he'd brought this up and not one of the million other things he felt guilty about.

"Actually, we broke up." He had been with Ruby for almost a year. It didn't feel right, but maybe he had been trying to suffocate old feelings with that relationship. Ruby was annoyed because Sam always prioritized (her words) his brother over everything, over  _her_ . But that was Sam's problem, not Dean's. 

"Oh," is all Dean said about that. Sam felt frustrated. He wanted to make Dean understand just how much he loved him, how much he needed him. That nothing in the world could ever make him want to lose Dean. But all he came up with was, "Dean, you can't possibly believe that, do you? That I'd be better off without you. That the world would be better off without you. 'Cause that's just not true."

He felt like he couldn't bring across what he really wanted to say, but then again he had never been able to really tell Dean how he felt about him.

"I'm sorry," Dean murmured. "Don't be," Sam said, his heart nearly breaking at the sight. "Just... please don't ever think something like this again." Dean smiled a goofy, apologetic, drunk smile and said, "Can't promise."

Sam looked down, desperate to find words to make Dean feel better. Then he noticed Dean was climbing over to Sam, moving closer. And then Dean's lips bumped into Sam's and considering how drunk he was, it was impressive that he had met his lips instead of some other part of Sam's face.

It was short and Sam was taken by surprise and then Dean was already gone again.

"Sorry," he mumbled. Taken aback, Sam stared at him for a moment, and then said, "Uh- You're drunk, Dean. You should really get some sleep now."

Dean mumbled something about how that didn't matter, but he sank into bed anyway. Sam tucked him in and Dean started snoring after about half a minute, leaving Sam all alone with his thoughts.

***

He had kissed him. One tiny, stupid, drunk kiss and Sam was back to where he was a few years ago all over again.

It had taken everything to ignore those feelings when they still lived together and even years later, when they were hunting together, it was still the same. It had made him a great actor. But the feelings never really went away, sometimes it seemed ignoring them only made them worse.

So one day he decided he needed to get away from Dean. It was the only way he could let it go. Spend some time alone, meet people, do something that did not involve seeing Dean every day.

It wasn't easy. How the hell do you tell your brother that you have basically done  _everything_ with, that suddenly you need to go your own way? That suddenly you don't need him anymore? 

Of course he did. Sam had always needed Dean. At first, as a kid, his big brother was all he had. But later still, Dean meant the world to him. And that's exactly why he had to get away. You can't go through life revolving around one person, who doesn't even love you the same way you love them.

Dean was angry at first, he didn't get it. For a while he ignored him, but eventually he had to accept Sam's decision, and let him go. Sam knew he had hurt Dean, but it was the only way to stop hurting himself.

He had put away the bottles in Dean's room, at first scared of waking up his brother, then noticing Dean was completely gone - nothing could have woken him up in that moment.

He cleaned the kitchen a bit (it looked like a mess and cleaning always helped Sam relax and sort through his thoughts), absorbed in his mind.

He didn't want to get worked up about something that Dean hadn't even meant, being drunk and all. Neither would he ever take advantage of him in a state like that. It was stupid to get all carried away by this, there was no point in it.

He tried to forget about it and went to sleep.

***

The next morning he woke up with a heavy feeling of a bad night. His sleep had been rather light, as if his thoughts had been trying to intrude them.

After getting up he made coffee and pancakes, trying to keep himself busy. At 11:24 Dean got up, slurfing through the hallway, groans accompanying his entrance.

He plopped down onto one of the bar stools in the kitchen and rubbed his face. "Morning," Sam said, teasingly happy. "Morn'," Dean replied, obviously too tired and hung-over to really talk.

Sam poured him a cup of coffee and then pushed a plate with a stack of pancakes in his direction. They both ate in silence for a while, but eventually Dean probably felt better thanks to the coffee and the food.

"So how are you feeling?" Sam asked. "Like I was born anew," Dean said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

"When did you get here?" Dean asked and Sam looked at him for a moment, his face searching for something. Then he cleared his throat. "Uh, you don't remember?" Dean shrugged, trying to seem like he wasn't just a bit freaked out about the huge gap in his mind.

"I do. Just not... everything." Was Sam convinced? At least he nodded and replied, "I got here around 2am."

Dean nodded and emptied his cup. Then he got up and showered and changed, while Sam took care of the kitchen... again. But he really didn't mind. His head was racing and anything he could do with his hands was welcome at that point.

Had Dean forgotten about everything? Or did he really remember parts, like he claimed? And if so,  _what_ parts exactly?

He finished cleaning the kitchen and then answered some emails on his laptop. Dean got out of the shower and Sam kept looking at him, trying to find some kind of sign, some kind of tension that would tell him his brother remembered.

He couldn't find anything and it nearly drove him insane. "You okay?" Dean asked casually. Sam hadn't even noticed he'd been staring. "Uh, yes, just... Need some air."

He shut off his laptop and got up. "Dude, you have like nothing in your fridge. I'll go buy some food... vegetables, you know?" he teased, trying to act normal. Dean was only half-buying it. "Sure... whatever you want. But only if you bring me-" Sam cut him off, "Pie, I know, Dean."

After leaving the flat, and walking a few steps he felt he could breathe more again. Why was this stupid incident that Dean probably didn't even remember making him act and feel so stupid? He decided to walk all the way, he needed to breathe.

***

"Dean, are we not going to talk about yesterday?" Sam asked eventually, while they were having dinner. They hadn't talked much and after getting home, Sam started cooking. He made some casserole - baked with cheese and lots of vegetables hidden underneath. He sometimes felt like he was a parent, having to trick Dean into eating something that contained fibre.

"No," Dean simply said. He always blocked off. "But, Dean, you-" Sam objected, only to be cut off again. "I said No. There's nothing to talk about. It happens, I'm alive, what more do you want?" Sam poked around in his food. "I want to not worry about whether you're alive, Dean," he finally said. "Then don't."

Sam looked up and Dean got up, taking his plate to the sink. Sam had lost his appetite.

When Dean had retrieved to his room, Sam put the leftovers into a bowl and then into the fridge and with a sigh, he started cleaning his own plate, as well as the glasses that were still standing on the table.

Dean was so darn stubborn. Of course, it's what made him Dean in a way, always shutting off, deciding what they'd talk about and what they wouldn't. But it frustrated Sam.

Dean had gone way too far last night, and Sam didn't even know how much of a one-time thing that had really been. He didn't know what to do. He just wanted to help, wanted to make sure Dean was okay. But maybe that train had left the station a long time ago... If only Dean would let someone in, maybe they wouldn't be in this situation right now.

Dean cleared his throat. "You've been cleaning that plate for about 10 minutes. You didn't even hear me when I said your name. What's up with you today?" Dean asked, almost accusingly. Sam looked at him. "Nothing," he answered. "Oh, my ass, nothing."

Sam sighed. "Two can play this game."

" _That's_ what this is about? Me not wanting to talk about yesterday? I told you I'm okay, so I'm okay. Just mind your own damn business for once."

Sam was taken aback at that, but not for long. "You  _are_ my own damn business, Dean." They just stared at each other for a moment. 

"You don't remember anything?" Sam then asked, his voice a bit softer again. Dean rolled his eyes and looked away. "So?"

Sam swallowed. "Nothing.... I just. Nothing."

"No, there clearly is  _something_ . This is not the first time I was black-out drunk, why the hell does it suddenly bother you so much?" Dean's voice was agitated, with an almost accusing note to it. When Sam didn't answer and just finished cleaning the plate in his hands, Dean asked, "Did something happen?"

Sam put the plate down and looked up. Finally he said, "You kissed me, Dean."

Dean looked down when he heard that, and then just said, "Oh."

"It's no big deal, Dean, you were drunk and all. I just... wanted to know if you remembered. That's all." Sam thought he sounded damn stupid. What would Dean think? Why would Sam care so much about some stupid drunk kiss? That happened all of the time with other people, without meaning anything, and the two of them were definitely close enough not to be embarrassed around each other about stupid little things like that.

"Yeah... I don't," Dean said. "Sorry 'bout the kiss. But I told you not to come save me, so it's kinda your own fault." He was teasing again, but in a more strained way than usually. Sam half-chuckled and then cleaned the table.

Dean turned on the TV and sat onto the couch. The sounds of some sitcom set over them and filled their silence. Sam read a bit and then went to sleep.

***

They tried real hard not to make it awkward, and they forgot about it soon - or at least they acted like it. Dean had shrugged it off and let it go rather quickly which Sam had mixed feelings about: he was glad they could be normal around each other, but it had hurt him to see Dean moving on so fast as if it had been nothing. But then again it probably really had been nothing. It  _should_ have been nothing. 

Sam was doing his best to let it go, but he was only moderately successful with that. He regretted telling Dean, because even if Dean had shrugged it off like that, Sam felt weird about this thing between them and he hated that he hurt about something he'd thought he'd left behind.

But you get used to it. Kind of. Well, in this case Sam had to. Because he was living with Dean for now. He was too worried about his brother to just go away again and truthfully, he didn't really have anywhere to go either. All those months, years, he'd been away, it was only to  _be away_ and not really because there was something better for him somewhere. He doubted there would ever be something better than his brother anywhere. Even if he couldn't have him.

So yes, he stayed. Dean would never admit it, but he wanted him to stay too. He wasn't ready to talk about anything (as Sam quickly found out - he had tried to bring his drinking problem up many times but never got far) but he was just glad to have his brother there; it made him feel safe somehow.

Sam had talked about therapy a few times, suggested it might be good to talk to someone (and sometimes it helped if that person was a stranger... even if he wished Dean would talk to him). Dean had always ignored him and stayed quiet and Sam had thought he was talking to a brick wall.

But one day Dean came home on a Wednesday afternoon and Sam surprised him, as he was usually in gym (yoga or somethin') during that time.

"Oh, hey," Dean mumbled. "I thought you were at yoga."

Sam looked up from his book that he was reading while sitting in the arm chair by the window, looking right at home there. Dean liked seeing him like that, knowing he had his brother back.

"It got cancelled today. But fine with me, the weather isn't great for going outside anyway." Dean nodded and took off his jacket. "What about you?" Sam asked. "Where were you?" Dean cleared his throat and then said, without looking at Sam, "Therapy."

Sam looked a bit surprised. "Oh," is all he said at first. "How long have you been doing this?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders and slendered over to the fridge. "I don't know... like one and a half months or so." Sam raised his eyebrows. Why hadn't he told him?

"That's... good," Sam eventually said. His thoughts about why Dean hadn't told him were pushed aside by the relief that had come with knowing that Dean was getting help, and that maybe he had been listening more than Sam had thought. Dean got a bottle of water and went to his room and they left it at that.

***

So they got their routines back. New and old combined - together again, but both back to work and life. Both keeping their little secrets - whether it was to protect the other or themselves or their relationship that had finally returned back to normal. Dean sometimes drank but never so much that Sam would notice. Sam kept pushing away that feeling in his stomach that simply wouldn't settle. But they were doing fine.

Sam worked mostly from home, and while the flat felt empty without Dean in it, he enjoyed being there when he came home after a long day of work. Sometimes he'd cook something, other times they'd get takeout. They'd talk about their days, boring small talk, but Sam couldn't care less because he had Dean right there with him, and they were doing alright.

***

It was Thursday and Sam had to go to a meeting for work. He only had to check in with his boss and things like that once a month or so, so working from Dean's flat was no problem. He had rented out his flat after being at Dean's for two weeks and finally admitting to himself he was not going to leave anytime soon. This meeting was the first time he left town in about one and a half months.

He started early in the morning for his two-hour drive so he'd make it to the meeting with some spare time for breakfast. He'd spend the night in the hotel and be back sometime on Friday.

The drive was rather relaxing, but he realized how used he had gotten to Dean's company. They didn't always talk much, but this silence surrounding Sam was different. Empty.

Eventually he turned on the radio and of course there was some classic rock channel on from the last time they’d both been in Sam’s car (probably because Dean’s car needed fixing, otherwise he’d never willingly take Sam’s instead).

He smiled at that and the rest of the drive went smoothly.

The meeting was fine and done early in the evening. He did feel quite lonely though. He worked alone all day at their flat too, but he didn't feel as alone as during that meeting in that room full of people. It was different sitting there at the desk, with Dean's things lying around, knowing he would come home to him soon.

The bed felt different too. He had spent such a big part of his life sleeping in motel beds and yet they didn't feel nearly as much as home as the bed in Dean's guest room.

***

"Hello?" Sam asked with his voice still asleep. He had been woken up by his phone ringing next to the bed. A quick glance to the clock told him it was 11:47pm.

" _Sammy_ ," he heard his brother's voice on the other end. His voice sounded muffled and all he'd said was his brother's name but Sam could tell he was slurring.

"Dean? What's going on?" He asked, sitting up straight in bed. "Mmm..," Dean just hummed. "Did you drink again?" Sam asked. "Yeah." Sam sighed. "Sorry," Dean added in a small voice.

There was a short moment of silence. "I... Can you come home?" Dean murmured, probably barely able to speak those words without feeling stupid.

Sam didn't say anything for a moment. "Please."

Sam's heart sank. "Yes," is all he said.

A few minutes later he had collected all his things and was already grabbing the steering wheel, making his way down a dark road.

***

He pulled up and immediately got out of the car, racing up the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

He opened the flat (struggling with finding the right key at first) and stepped inside the dark living room.

Just like last time he found Dean on his bed.

He silently sat down next to him. Dean opened his eyes and looked up at him.

Sam couldn't read his expression. It looked like sadness, but there was something else in his eyes, in those endlessly green eyes.

"Hi," Sam said.

Dean's mouth curled up into a faint smile after a moment. His hand reached out for Sam and pulled him onto the bed next to him.

They just lay there, their breathing slowing down eventually.

Dean turned to his side, leaning his head against Sam's shoulder. He felt heavy and exhausted, and Sam was feeling worn out too, after getting only about 2 hours of sleep and then driving for about as long. But neither of them were anywhere near falling asleep.

Dean's hand rested on Sam's arm. Sam noticed he was trembling and Sam took his hand. "Are you okay?" he asked. Dean blinked and breathed out. "Now I am."

Sam breathed out, relaxing into the light touch of their hands. His eyes were closed, but his mind was wide awake. Racing, jumping from thought to thought, never really grasping anything.

He almost lost himself in them, until he heard his brother's raspy voice a little later. "Sammy..."

"You awake?" Dean asked. "Yeah."

"I'm not really drunk," Dean said and Sam answered, "Dean, you've had a whole bottle." "You know it takes more than that," Dean immediately replied. Sam  _did_ know it. And it made him sad, because it made him wonder just how often Dean really drank, and it scared him even more to know that when Dean drank, he drank a  _lot_ . 

"But just- let me," Dean continued. Sam assumed Dean meant he should let him talk.

"Look, even if I am a bit drunk and even if I might not really remember this tomorrow, I do really mean it." And then he kissed Sam.

It was a tender kiss on the lips, and when their lips parted, they just stayed like that for a moment, breathing each other in. Then Sam kissed him back.

A part of him was telling him to stop, not to get into this again. That this was wrong, that  _he_ was wrong. But his heart longed for Dean, longed to finally feel at home again, to give in to all of this. 

Dean's breath smelled of alcohol and his lips were soft.

Sam felt an immense wave of all kinds of emotions flood over him as he kissed his brother back, his breath all jagged and his heart wildly beating.

Dean's kisses and touches were only a little sloppy; mostly impressively well co-ordinated for being a little drunk and all. But Sam knew Dean had certainly done this many times before, and now he was thinking about the pain again that had always stung in his chest when seeing his brother with someone else.

But not anymore. In this moment Dean was there with him, and only him.

His hands ran down Dean's sides, and this embrace felt familiar and yet strange, as it now had a new meaning for the both of them.

"Dean," he breathed, his hand slowly slipping under Dean's shirt and his heart melting away at the touch that he had imagined for so long, finally in reality, Dean's soft skin under Sam's hand.

Dean held Sam's face with one hand and he looked at him as if he was finally holding a long-wanted treasure in his hand.

"I've wanted this for so long," Sam said before kissing him again. "Wanted  _you_ for so long."

Dean only kissed him in reply. Tender kisses, first on his lips, then his neck.

Dean's shirt came off soon and together they pulled off Sam's as well.

A few light chuckles and muffled moans later, Sam was sitting on top of Dean. They had been kissing for what felt like forever. Dean took Sam's hand and placed it on his hip, gesturing for him to take off his boxers.

"You sure?" Sam asked, suddenly very aware of what they were really doing.

Dean looked at him for a moment. "So sure."

So Sam swiftly pulled off Dean's boxers, revealing his full length.

Soon they were both naked and rolling around in between the sheets.

Sam had never done anything with a guy, but he figured he'd know more or less what to do with a dick, as he had one himself.

When Dean breathed "Touch me." into Sam's ear, he wrapped his hand around Dean's cock and started sliding it up and down, completely losing himself in those beautiful sounds Dean was making with every stroke.

It didn't take very long for Dean to fall apart completely, and along with a few strokes on his own aching dick, it was enough for Sam to come too.

All he wanted to do was lie down and hold Dean closer than ever before. But first he grabbed his shirt and wiped off their stomachs.

Then he lay down next to Dean with a sigh.

Staring at the ceiling, neither of them said anything.

But did they have to?

Dean turned to his side after a while and inched closer, resting his head against Sam's shoulder and his arm on Sam's stomach.

Sam's heart jumped and he pulled Dean closer. Closer, closer, closer. Close was not close enough.

While Dean drifted off to sleep, Sam was once again buried in thoughts.

This time at least, they were mostly nice thoughts.

And even the bad ones couldn't hurt him in that moment, with Dean in his arms.

Safe and sound. And his.

***

Waking up that morning, Sam was overwhelmed with the warmth spreading in his chest. Actually holding Dean like this was more than he could have ever imagined, and that sleeping beauty next to him made him smile like an idiot.

His eyelashes were blonde, lit by the sunshine, and when Dean opened up his eyes, Sam was mesmerized by that emerald green again.

Dean woke up soon after him. At first puzzled, then smiling and breathing in deeply.

They re-adjusted their position, getting closer again. A light morning kiss landed on Sam's lips.

"Hi," he eventually broke that sacred silence.

"Morning."

He hated to ask, and he'd have much rather just kept kissing Dean. But he needed to know.

"Do you remember?" Sam asked.

Dean looked away a bit. "Not everything.."

For a moment Sam was hurt, scared of what it meant. But Dean kissed his worries away.

"I wish I could remember everything."

He pulled Sam closer.

"Next time I will."

And Dean held his promise. He drank only rarely after that. There were maybe a few slip-ups, but nothing too big. And he  _did_ remember their next time.

It was what kept him going - knowing that Sam was right there, always holding him up.

And it's what kept Sam going too - knowing that home was to be home for good now.

Finally.

 

 


End file.
